


Ghost in the Window

by Ramabear (RyMagnatar)



Series: A Joyful Ghost [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Biting, M/M, Post-Massacre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/Ramabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years since his death, Shisui Uchiha is one of the many that Kakashi remembers, although not as frequently as some of the others he's lost. In the middle of the night, not long after Sasuke's left the village behind him, Kakashi gets a visitor in his window. It seems some of the dead aren't really gone and after six years, they haven't forgotten what joy was once shared in sunlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost in the Window

Kakashi opened his eye to the sensation of being watched.

He lay on his side in his bed, one hand tucked under a pillow, gripping a kunai, and took in a deep breath. He could smell, even through his facemask, the scent of night air and of something he couldn’t contribute to the familiar smell of his room or of the alley under his window. Then he heard the creak of wood from his windowsill. He tensed for a second, listening, waiting. If it was a messenger, they would know he was awake and say something.

Five seconds passed by and nothing but silence. He rolled and threw the kunai.

It was caught out of the air by the man crouched in the open window. He wore an Anbu mask of some bird, strangely more colorful than the typical mask, bearing four or five colors on it besides the base white and accent of black. The man cocked his head to the side and lifted the hand holding the kunai. He spread both his hands, palms towards Kakashi, and let the weapon drop from his fingers.

“If that’s supposed to make me think you’re non-threatening, you might as well give up. I can see that you’re armed with plenty of your own kunai,” Kakashi said dryly. “Do you have a message for me?”

The bird shook his head. He lowered his hands to his knees and cocked his head the other direction now. “You’ve changed. Gotten older.” A pause and then, “I should have anticipated this.”

Kakashi arched an eyebrow. “I take it we’ve met, Anbu-san, but I must have misplaced your name somewhere.”

“Ah. This will be a shock. I apologize in advance.”

Kakashi’s brow climbed higher. There was a stilt to that voice, like the politeness of them had been beaten into the speaker, rendering all other types of speech into dust. He watched silently as the other shinobi reached behind his mask and undid the strap that held it in place. He pulled it off slowly, blinking as he did so.

Kakashi’s heart stopped. He stared. ‘A shock’ was the least apt description for the current that ran through his body and paralyzed him where he sat on his bed. “Impossible,” he whispered. His brain simultaneously told him that it wasn’t, couldn’t be, Shisui as it told him that the shape of those cheekbones, the arch of those brows, that nose, that empty half-smile, those dark, dark eyes told him it couldn’t be anyone _but_ Shisui Uchiha.

Six years older now and with a scar on both eyes that Kakashi was intimately familiar with, having one on his own left eye, but with that same curly black hair and the same edges to his teeth under those same lips. It was him. Or it was a damn good imitation of him.

“I apologize,” Shisui says again. “I would have made my presence known sooner but… this was the first time I could get away, you see, without it being noticed.” There’s a twist of his lips and something that looks like bitterness in his eyes as he continues in that same plain, genial tone, “But with Sasuke gone, there’s no trouble I could possibly make in the village so I’m allowed to take my furloughs with the general populace instead of in the foundations of the tree.” And then he promptly stuck out his tongue.

Kakashi blinked at the gesture, confused for a moment, before he saw the curse seal. “You’re-” He stops as Shisui lifts up a hand.

Silently, Shisui slipped into the room and closed the window behind himself with one hand. “I came for something else. Something I hope you can help me with.” He paused and did the most human gesture yet, rubbing at the back of his head and laughing softly, “It’s presumptuous of me to request it, though. I half expect you to deny me and send me back out.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is or should I start guessing and you’ll just say whether I’m right or not?” Oddly enough, the rambling that he’s doing is relaxing to Kakashi. The Shisui he remembered was only even quiet when he _had_ to be for a mission. Even broken by Danzo, by Root, it seemed that Shisui kept the habit of a loose tongue.

Shisui gives a cutting smile that’s more like a knife edge than anything else, “I’d like you to fuck me. If you’re willing. If you think you can do it.”

Kakashi covers his eye for a moment, considering what his life has become that he’s got a supposedly dead Uchiha climbing in through his window asking for _sex_ of all things, and then his mind decides to bring up that sunshine memory that he keeps tucked away for when things are really, really bad and he needs to remember what it sounds like when someone laughs with joy.

He lowers his hand to find Shisui hasn’t moved. Simply waited. He looks at him, then, at the body of a man considered dead by the village, forgotten by the shinobi, and abandoned by his clan. Was there any joy left in him or had it been wrung out of him while that stillness, that politeness, those new eyes, were beaten into him?

Making his decision, Kakashi gestures to Shisui, beckoning him over. He discovers in the next moment that Shisui is just as fast as he ever was because he’s across the room and half undressed in the next second, kneeling on the bed. “Fuck,” Kakashi breathes out, more startled than he’d like to admit.

Shisui pauses in removing his shoes. He glances up and gives a crooked smile. “That’s the idea.” In the next breath he’s fully on the bed, straddling Kakashi’s legs with his own bare ones and leaning in. He hooks a finger in Kakashi’s facemask and pulls it down, slowly. “You really have changed. What happened to that half-naked man I took back to his apartment six years ago?”

“A lot of people died,” Kakashi whispers back. It’s not good sex talk, what he’s saying, he knows that, but he has a feeling this version of Shisui won’t mind it too much. And it's the truth, all of it. It’s the truth and it’s why he’s a different shinobi, a different man. “There was a massacre and a string of bad missions and I got stuck with kids I don’t know how to take care of and then there was an invasion and the death of the hokage and one of those brats I was put in charge of ran off to complete a mad quest carved into his psyche by an equally young and foolish idiot brother.”

Shisui flutters his lashes at him and murmurs, “What, did my death not change things for you?”

“Idiot,” Kakashi grabs a handful of those dark curls, “Your death started everything. I couldn’t understand why he would do that to you, why he would just kill you, _sacrifice_ you for a better doujutsu.” He tugged Shisui closer and mouthed at his lips, “I couldn’t understand how you died at his hand except if you _let him kill you_ because you were always stronger and faster and more clever than he was. You were a trickster and you had such faith in people. He brought you down from what you could have been and then I thought he killed you. For _power.”_

Shisui gives him light kisses. “I’d tell you more about that night but there’s a little blossom on my tongue that forbids such damning words.” Which is enough, enough for Kakashi to know that Itachi wasn’t the one who took Shisui’s eyes, enough to know that someone else played a role in his senseless death and that burns in his gut almost as hot and heavy as the weight of his lust.

“He has no idea you’re alive, does he? Not him or the brat.” Kakashi runs his other hand up Shisui’s flank. He’s just as thin and well muscled as Kakashi remembers. Yet the body is so much different now, in the moonlight that faintly lights up the room. Shisui looks more like a silvery ghost than he looks human, made of flesh and blood. It makes Kakashi have to ask, “You _are_ alive, right? I’m not on some psychedelic poison and hallucinating a dead man in my bed because I’m that desperate.” He adds a moment later, “I am not desperate, by the way. I have plenty of people in my bed, whenever I want them.”

“Just not often,” Shisui smiles. His hands have worked open Kakashi’s pants. He doesn’t seem concerned with the rest of his clothes. With the mask pulled down and Kakashi’s cock out in the open, Shisui stops tending to his attire and begins to work slightly cool fingers over the shaft. “That’s all right, I understand that. I haven’t wanted anyone in my bed for a long, long time. Not many prospects, you see. Intimacy is frowned upon back home.” He pulls back from one of his quick kisses and says, eyes moving up and down Kakashi’s body, “Not that there were any that caught my fancy, when I could close my eyes and remember _you.”_

It’s flattering and just the sort of talk that _Kakashi_ likes. He likes even more when Shisui slides back and drops his head down.

He leans back and back and back until he’s flat on his back because there’s no point in holding himself upright if his spine is just as comfortable giving up support. Kakashi tells himself it's so he can reach the side table for the lube, which he just manages to get into his hand before Shisui puts that mouth to better use than his banter.

Kakashi writhes his way out of his shirt because it’s too damn hot in it. It tangles on his head and on an elbow, he curses and twists and finally tosses it aside. Then Shisui gives a positively long suck and he groans, stretching out on his bed.

Shisui pulls his head up, slowly of course, and says, “Hand me that, would you?” He holds out his hand and Kakashi puts the container into it. With Shisui’s mouth off his cock, he can reorganize his thoughts into something coherent.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and says, “It’s good to see that you haven’t given up your hardworking nature, Shisui. Only one of us can be the slacker in this relationship and clearly I’m the far more talented person in that regard.”

Shisui cocks his head to the side as he finishes coating his fingers with lube. “Of course you are, you have many more years of practice than I do.” He gives a sly smile, reaching behind himself with that hand, “I’d hate for you to throw your back in your eagerness to please me. You’ll find that six years did more than scar my face and cast me into the shadows of my own village.”

Kakashi makes a show of stretching out his arms and then folding them behind his head. He has his pillow folded there too, so he can still look down at what Shisui’s doing. “Maa, you should be kinder to your elders. Who is going to impart the wisdom of the world to you if you go around insulting those more experienced than you?”

“Wisdom is an odd thing to call your cock, isn’t it?” Shisui’s eyes close and his body tenses. Kakashi wishes for a moment that he could see the way Shisui’s fingers moved in and out of himself, wishes he could see how many had in him, how they twisted, how he pleasured himself. “If yours is wisdom, can mine be foolishness? Or perhaps naivety. I think that might suit me better.”

“And why would that suit you so well?” Kakashi asks, half wondering and half watching Shisui’s hips lifting up in tiny jerking motions. If it were anyone else on his lap, fingering themselves and he was only watching, Kakashi thinks his cock would start flagging after the first minute or so. Shisui isn’t anyone else, though. He doesn’t even think about reaching down to touch himself because he’s just as hard as he was when Shisui last licked up the underside and left him wanting.

“Because it fits me,” Shisui murmurs. “Because I trusted those I shouldn’t have with information, with the protection of those I care about. Because I thought I was _safe_ in _my own village._ Because you calling us fucking with a six year dry spell in between a _relationship_ and I’m still aching for one of those.” And then his hips rise and sink down and Kakashi has to close his eye and remember to _breathe._

What was Shisui even doing with his fingers? He feels so tight, too tight to have been stretched at all, and because of that he sinks slowly down Kakashi’s cock. He lets out a groan as he feels a hand briefly touch him, in addition to that enveloping heat, to add more lube. “Fuck, _fuck, Shisui.”_

“Yeah,” Shisui replies as he finally settles. He rocks a little bit, eyes closed himself, head tipped back. “Okay. A moment, though, a moment.”

Kakashi grunts in reply. He reaches for Shisui, grabbing what is close enough -his knees- and squeezes them. “This is for you. Do it how you’d like it.”

“How kind of you,” Shisui laughs softly, “to offer up your wisdom for my use. I’ll try not to abuse what you teach me, _senpai,”_ he adds the title teasingly. Kakashi’s hips jerk up of his own free will.

Shisui’s head rolls around on his shoulders until he’s staring down at Kakashi. His eyes are red, the tomoe spinning slowly. “I’m going to remember this forever. They might figure out where I went, what I did. I might never get to see you again. So I want to remember this forever.”

Kakashi opens his mouth to speak but then Shisui leans forward, shifts his weight slightly and begins to move. The breath is driven from his body in a series of short, harsh pants. Shisui laughs again, louder and brighter, but still sharp and edged like the silver blade of a tanto, and throws himself into riding Kakashi’s cock.

There’s a distant realization that Shisui’s stopped talking, for once. He’s reduced to the same wordless sounds that Kakashi makes without conscious thought. His mouth is open to his panting and his groaning. His hands hold Kakashi down while his legs, those strong legs that Kakashi can’t believe he ever forgot about, bring Shisui up and down with coiled muscles and shaking effort.

He keeps trying to reach for Shisui, to get some solid muscle under his hands, but he can only get halfway up Shisui’s arms. He’s held down and he’s _used_ like an object, like a toy, for Shisui’s greedy pleasure. Kakashi leans back his head and gives up, gives in and lets Shisui have what he wants.

It’s shorter than he’d thought they’d last. Short and sharp like a knife blade wedged in between the ribs. Kakashi takes in such a sharp breath when Shisui clenches around him that he almost _feels_ the knife in his lung -he’s had that one once before and it was one of the worst things he’s ever felt. Shisui screams, throws his head back, arches his back, digs his nails into Kakashi’s skin and _screams_ like he’s never felt this before, like it scares him as much as it makes him feel amazing.

Kakashi feels his orgasm ripped out of his gut so hot and sharp that it makes an old wound along his abdomen ache. He groans, half in pain and half in white hot burning pleasure, as he thrust up as much as he can. Panting in the aftermath, in the afterimage of Shisui arched in the moonlight burned into his mind even without the Sharingan, Kakashi feels Shisui curled over him. Not quite collapsed, not quite sitting up.

Kakashi runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find words along with his breath. He turns his head to Shisui, to find dark eyes watching him, quiet and solemn. “One more thing, Kakashi, please. One more thing.”

He doesn’t know what else he could give Shisui. It feels like he’s been hollowed out. His limbs still tremble and he’s not sure if that’s from the orgasm or from the way his old wounds are complaining. “What is it?”

Shisui shifts. He brings his shoulder up, closer to Kakashi’s head. His eyes are still dark but have a wild edge to them. “Bite me.”

“What.”

“Please?” And this voice is so different than all the rest of them. It’s tiny and small and seems to come from a place far away inside of Shisui. Small like a child. Or like someone wounded and buried under rubble, unable to find their way out, unable to do anything but beg in the darkness, for death or for rescue it is impossible to tell which.

Kakashi shakes his head even as he pushes himself up and closes the distance. This bite is different than the last one, the one he can see the silver edge of a scar to on Shisui’s other shoulder. There’s no malice, no lust, nothing but a deep pity and regret that Kakashi feels fill his mouth along with the coppery blood. When he draws back, he hesitates and then licks over the bite mark.

Shisui’s eyes flutter and he puts his hand over the steadily bleeding wound. He doesn’t say anything, just lays half on top of Kakashi, half at his side.

This time, Kakashi can’t let the wound go untended. He knows what kind of bacteria is in the human mouth. He knows how easily his bite could eventually kill the idiot if he let it go. He _doesn’t_ know if this Shisui would let the infection happen. He could. He might. It was possible.

Kakashi wasn’t going to let the death of another one of his precious people add more blood to his hands.

He gets out of the bed and brings back a med kit. Shisui watches him with one eye open as he cleans the wound and covers it up. When that’s done, he lays back down and isn’t surprised in the least when Shisui half crawls onto him for warmth and comfort. “You’re going to stay and sleep?”

“I’ll stay as long as I can,” Shisui replies, eyes already closed. “Not til morning, but as long as I can.”

Kakashi runs fingers through Shisui’s hair and shifts on the bed enough that he can lean down and kiss him, properly. Shisui doesn’t seem to care that there’s blood on his teeth, which is fortunate because Kakashi didn’t think to rinse out his mouth while he was up. He kisses and kisses and kisses Shisui until they’re both struggling for breath and there’s a slight smile playing at Shisui’s lips.

“You’re a pervert,” Shisui whispers, “But a romantic one.”

“Shut up,” Kakashi says into his hair, “Just tell me you’ll come back again someday.”

“Someday, someday,” Shisui replies. “Old men die and young men become free, someday.”

Kakashi tightens his arms around Shisui and says nothing else.

For the second time that night, Shisui is silent.

* * *

Kakashi wakes up to the grey light of dawn and someone knocking heavily on his door. As he dresses, pulling mask up, discarded clothes on, he notices a message written on his arm.

_They call me Parrot. I already miss you._

He makes sure it’s covered with his sleeve and even though it’s just ink he feels it burning on his skin like a brand. When he finally gets to the door, he can still taste blood in the back of his mouth and the stinging of scratches on his sides from the nails of his nighttime visitor.

It’s morning, though, and even if the sun is just barely over the horizon, it's enough to burn away the ghosts of the past whose touch still lingers in the air. The moonlight can only shine brightly in the absence of the sun, after all.


End file.
